


Up is Down on Montmartre

by Bast (Bastet_Seith)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Declarations Of Love, Other, POV Animal, Prostitution, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-23
Updated: 2013-01-23
Packaged: 2017-11-26 16:06:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/652043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bastet_Seith/pseuds/Bast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Cat had been living in this city for ages. It didn’t seem to him that the dawns change the sunsets as long as the planet exists – each day it was different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Up is Down on Montmartre

**Author's Note:**

> (as witnessed by a cat)

The Cat had been living in this city for ages. It didn’t seem to him that the dawns change the sunsets as long as the planet exists – each day it was different. Especially in this city. Today Paris was beautiful again. A faint spirit, it was draped in milky haze, that glimmered in peach and pink rays of the rising sun, and breathed with freshness of a coming day. The Cat – Louis was his name – was sitting between two chimneys blacken with the smoke of the previous century. He was watching his possession with the lazy look of the only and almighty Lord of Montmartre and had a strong feeling that the evening would turn out well. He felt good. It was close to midnight, so very soon Louis was setting off on making his everynight round of the hill, finishing at Lamarck-Caulaincourt, the underground station with a lacy entry and a glowing signboard. Although he likes his Paris, the Cat didn’t understand what was so special about it that such big crowds were coming here each day, shuttlecocking the twisting side streets. What for were they climbing to Sacré-Coeur, blinding tirelessly his sensitive eyes with bright flashes? Why did they stop in front of bronze statue, that was half-stuck in the wall, and screw up their eyes with delight? Was there any special reason for them to be waiting for hours in a queue in front of the Red Mill radiating bright neon lights? It was abnormal. It was so mundane.

To be honest, the cat also lived his routine. He was used to everyday sprawling on a roof with his fluffy paunch up and basking in the sun, for example. Or he also liked frightening the canary of aged madame Joujou – not that he wanted to eat it (well, not only that!) – but just for fun. Again, Souris the Rat cropped up, and that was their eternal ‘cat-and-mouse’ adventure, that they both amused. The least exciting part of any day was the escape from Terry – a guard dog of monsieur L’Oiseau, that at some weird point couldn’t stand Louis at all. The most longed-for hour, on the contrary, was the ‘ten o’clock fight’ at the back door of the fish market, five minutes before an owner would treat him to the tastiest pluck a cat could ever try.

 

But there was one thing that Louis kept on waiting – the night. He liked his starry hours. There were so many beautiful people in the street close to Moulin Rouge. Girls, boys… They went out late in the evening, dressed up and with bright make-up on. They seemed to be very busy: their talk was loud and gestures expressive. But they didn’t go far – usually they just wondered around the same place as if looking waiting for something.

“Any luck, baby?”

“It’s rainy, dear. Good hubbies are at home.”

“I wonder, where are the bad ones then.” 

Many people think cats are so simple they cannot appreciate wonders. But they can. There Louis could see a lot of beauty: pompous and glittering like a butcher's shop window decorated to Christmas with tinsel and garland, or dark and smooth that reminded of a sleek tail of Marie, an old feline friend of Louis. Oh, Marie! 

Among all that variety though, amidst of the crowd, almost lost in shapes and colors he could always discern a slender figure, tightened up in black. It reminded him of a sunrise that he saw the past spring. Still bearing the trace of a night, it was touched with crème brûlée light, tincturing the velvet clouds with gold and amethyst. 

The devil knows, why he noticed that creature – not quite human if to be compared with the people around. May be, that was because it didn’t look at passersby and didn’t smile to them too affable and too drunkenly. Or may be…  
Once he was on his after-dinner constitutional at the Place du Tertre – a square for artists who painted masterpieces to sell them for several francs. There he saw his person drawing the shades of fountain with the blue pastel. He came closer to make sure and the Creature scratched his spine, making him a blue Paris tiger. 

“Hey, beast! Are all alone here?” the voice was low and velvet.

“I’m allmewty her-r-re, cher-r-rie!” Louis was really proud of himself, purrung under gentle fingers.

 

He wasn’t licking himself clean for the whole day – so proud he was to have those chalk lines along his back. The Creature’s fingertips that had left him that costume were tender and thin, very delicate for a human. And very cold for a happy person.

 

There was another special acquaintance of Louis who he came to watch each time he could hear weightless passages brought with the wind. A young fair-hair musician with a violin came to the steps of the white church at the top of Montmartre four days a week and played the fluent melodies so everyone could feel Paris and its air. The boy was glad for each centime and smiled wide each time tourists threw a coin to his violin case. Although he played so well and there were so many idlers listening to him he never collected a lot of money. But he still was the sort of Louis’s – no, not master – friend. When the boy finished at his another job (he had so many of them) and put away the broom, they would seat in front of the colorful ‘I-Love-You-Wall’ and share the can of tuna. And there was something else between them. 

“Do you want some more tuna? It’s disgusting, I warn you,” lively and cheerful, he was smiling at the sun as if saw it for the first time.

“Stop talking and feed me, little human!” silly questions need no answer.

It wasn’t surprising that the one who gave Louis his name was the violinist – they had so much in common. Wandering, occupied, busy, easy-going,.. having a thing for the Creature.

 

That was it – the knot of the small world. First time he just felt the light fragrance of interest. The second time he caught the cautious look, full of admiration. Later on Louis watched the boy playing music at the Boulevard de Clichy for the first time. He didn’t open the case. He looked at the creature. That was also the first time the Creature ever looked back. But moment of miracle ended – the Creature had a guest. They entered a house, and the boy stopped in the middle of a piece.

 

The Creature had guests pretty often, and Louis wondered why they were so wicked. Having come without presents they grabbed the Creature’s elbow as if insisting on the warm welcome and, after getting the affirmative but very weak nod, went inside.  
“Come on, you need my money,” rough voice scratching the ear made the cat wish to scratch that mug.

“I can walk, don’t pull me,” answer was too weak to convince anyone.

“We’ll see what you can.”

After a while men – only men, always – left, smirking and delighted, stained with their own greasy smell, and the Creature came outside sad and pale. The Cat watched the slender figure leaning against the wall, bearing the scent of lemon soap and deadly tiredness. Short black hair was wet and long sleeves of a thin sweater were pulled to the knuckles as if it was very cold. That was the moment the boy usually came. He didn’t draw near and he didn’t ask for a visit. He just played and watched. 

Louis couldn’t call himself the wisest cat in the world, but around Paris – yes, no doubts he was the most intelligent puss ever been born. He saw the magic of those to talking with only their eyes. And he saw desperation.

 

The Creature couldn’t help but noticed their diversity and try to guard the boy from that life. The boy couldn’t keep from coming from the top of the hill to the lower depth of Montmartre. 

“Don’t come close. It will sully your name.”

“Oh, so I’m fortunate not to have any loud name for now.”

The Cat was curious but was going to live long life and witness… something. He had the feeling that there would be a turnabout that he had never to miss.

 

Once again Louis was sitting under a copper bench. He was observing the crowd in feathers and leather, was feeling the cocktail of perfumes and hearing the voices and bursts of laughter – a real cacophony for the senses. But, well, he was the Master of Paris who had been living under the stage of a very famous theatre. He knew that life. 

What he didn’t know was that there could be so many surprises at a time.

 

A saxophone melody came from a distant corner – deep and calling. A sandy sound of percussion was the next, beating the rhythm and supporting the entering violin. The musicians appeared from three corners. They were not magicians or angels. Louis saw three boys that stopped the fuss of the whole Place Pigalle with simple jazz. Though, it really didn’t matter – men and women froze where they were, watching the performance, that wasn’t for any of them but for one. It was awesome. Too sweet but, well, the Cat could swear on his tail and whiskers that was the most beautiful confession The Boulevard de Clichy had ever seen. 

“Do you see it?” not that people had never heard that melody, but…

“What the hell are they doing?” they couldn’t believe that it was ever possible.

“No, it cannot be that the whole thing is for…” they had just never seen the miracles of Montmartre so far.

Remember – cats are the most curious beasts ever. Sure, they are interested where a clew will roll or what is rustling behind a cupboard. Honestly, are people not nosy themselves.

So Louis was proud to say that he was the best witness of the greatest fall to the top. The boy climbed the bench, tumble down (not that it surprised the Cat) and broke the leg, but was still able to ask the Creature to help him. Them. And the Creature kneeled, whispering that noone was so foolish to accomplish such a foolish feat. And agreed. 

“You are stubborn and completely insane,” the Creature was smiling for the first time within Louis’s recollection. 

“I can’t help it, I’m in love,” moaning and laughing at the same time – what a happy dolt! 

Ambulance – damn it! – came too fast. 

“What is your name?” the doctor asked the boy, when helpig him to the car.

“Anrie.”

“And your?..” the door shut before Louis could hear the Creature’s name.

But, well, there should be something left behind as in any good story.

 

“Marie, do you want me to tell you something?” 

“Oui, mon cher!”


End file.
